


can't say no (to this)

by occasionallynotsafe



Category: South Park
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22359130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionallynotsafe/pseuds/occasionallynotsafe
Summary: Kyle avoiding Ike worked out really well, until it really didn't.
Relationships: Ike Broflovski/Kyle Broflovski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	can't say no (to this)

**Author's Note:**

> for a certain someone. ❤︎
> 
> technically speaking, this is a part of a much larger fic, but i'll likely never write it, so. have the porn?  
> while i don't really think there's much context needed, here's the important bit: Kyle dropped out of college/whatever the heck, and returns home, to a hyper sexual Ike who is _very_ interested in Kyle. much pining and self-loathing ensues.

Ike's not easy to avoid.

It's even harder when they share a house, packed tight like a pair or sardines, and every dinner, every breakfast, is awkward and uncomfortable, this tense moment between them.

It's a miracle neither of their parents have noticed it, or at least confronted them about it. 

And shit, Kyle doesn't know what to _do_ about it. He'd ignore it, pretend it's not _there_ , but that's pretty fucking impossible when he can feel Ike's eyes on him, all the time. When every chance he gets, Ike goes for him like a shark smelling blood, expression intense and sharp. And Kyle fucking _knows_ what'd happen, if he gets cornered by Ike. And that's- that's not a thing he can allow to happen, it's just _not_.

So he avoids. He stays out with Stan and Kenny, dances around Ike like he's a fucking ballet-dancer, and for a while, it almost feels like it'd work out.

And then Kyle forgets to lock his bedroom door.

He's in the middle of undressing, shirt halfway to his elbows, when the door clicks open.

And shit, Kyle freezes _on the spot_. His breath lodges in his throat, his heart goes still, and he knows, without even looking, that it's Ike.

The door clicks again. Closed. And then, the soft sound of it locking.

Kyle presses his eyes together. Bites at the inside of his cheek till it hurts, good and hard, and puts his shirt back on.

"Ike," he sounds lost. Like he's pleading for help, mercy, whatever, and when he opens his eyes again, Ike's looking right at him.

He's not close. He's just standing at the door, back to it, and Kyle catches himself admiring him, as he always does these days.

He's changed so much in the years he's been gone. Changed _so much_ from that little brat he used to be.

Kyle's never sure if it's a good change, or a bad one.

"We need to talk," Ike says. And he's serious, his voice hard and unrelenting, and Kyle could try and dance around it, could try and worm his way out of this, but-

His shoulders slump.

"I know," he says, and feels like he's marching to the gallows.

Ike's the one who moves first. He steps closer, draws in, and Kyle swallows, wants to move but doesn't. Ike's close in seconds, within reach just so, and Kyle can see the freckles on his cheeks, across his nose, faint as they are.

Ike's taller than him, already. Just enough that Kyle has to look up a smidge, to meet his little brother's eyes.

"You've been avoiding me," Ike says, and doesn't touch him.

"Yeah," Kyle says, and _fuck_ , it comes out more a breath than anything else, and Ike's not even _touching him_ , is just standing close enough that Kyle can feel the warmth of his body.

Ike ticks his head an inch to the side, just a little, interested movement. 

"Why?" he asks, and Kyle breathes in, sharp, _frustrated_.

"You _know why_ , Ike!" he snaps. "This- whatever it is- it's not _right_!"

Ike looks at him. Just looks, expression quiet and eyes _bright_ , and Kyle itches to touch him, so suddenly it makes his head spin. Itches to slam him into something, to make him _listen_ , understand. To kiss him.

Kyle looks away. Breathes in sharply, and it rattles his whole body, shakes his ribs. There's coal in his gut, simmering and rolling, and Kyle _hates_ himself, so intensely it tastes like nothing but ash.

"It's _wrong_ , Ike."

A quick, flowing movement.

Ike touches him, and it feels like fire on his skin, like liquid inferno in his vein. It's just the warmth of his palm against his chin, but it _burns_ , and his whole body hitches, shudders.

Ike makes him look. Makes their eyes feet.

"Why?" he asks, simple, genuine. "Why's it wrong, _brother_?"

Kyle jerks his head away. Stumbles back a step, breath shivering, and he hates, _hates_ , the way his gut is warm, the way he longs, _aches_ , for this.

"We're _brothers_ ," he says, voice tight. "Everyone- _everyone_ \- would cast us aside, would _hate_ us, Ike! We'd lose everything. Our friends. Our homes. _Mom. Dad_. What-" he chokes on the words, on the emotions boiling inside him. "What don't you get about that?"

Ike's unmoved. 

"All I want is you," he says, and it's so fucking _honest_ , Kyle wants to cry.

"I _can't_ ," he breathes, begs. "Ike, _please_ -!"

Ike steps closer. Reaches out, slow, so if he wants to move, he can. 

Fingers touch his cheek. Slide their way home, and Ike's palm is so _warm_ against his cheek.

"No one has to know," he says. "It'll be just between us."

Kyle shakes his head. "They'll find out."

"Then we'll say I forced you," Ike steps closer. Closer, _closer_.

"That's- no, _Ike_ -"

Their breaths are mingling. Kyle's heart is quick in his chest, and his body is burning, his breath so short. Tension is electricity at his spine. He's not sure if he's anticipating this, or dreading this.

"Tell me not to, Kyle. Say no to this, _mean it_ , and I'll go."

They're nose to nose. Almost lip to lip. Kyle can see every freckle on Ike's skin, every line, every bit of brown in his eyes. And he knows, bone-deep, if he says no now, that'll be it.

Ike'll turn away. He'll leave, and this whole thing, this _taint_ between them will fade.

But Kyle can't.

He surges forward. Kisses Ike like he's been dreaming off since he walked back into this house, and Ike makes this sound, soft, surprised. Like he had almost expected Kyle to say _no_.

The kiss turns heated immediately. Tongue and teeth, wet spit and _want_ , and Kyle aches, in his bones, to be closer. To melt into his little brother, and it's like a flood has been unleashed, like a dam's been broken.

Ike pushes him back. Glides his hand down to curl around Kyle's throat, to press a thumb against his adam apple, and Kyle gasps. Ike kisses him deeper, licks the inside of Kyle's mouth with his tongue, like he's trying to reach every damn corner of Kyle's mouth, and _fuck_.

They bump against something. A table, maybe, and Kyle's on it in seconds, either by his own arms or by Ike's and he spreads his legs, drags Ike into the circle there.

They kiss. They _kiss_ , and kiss and kiss, till their lips are red and they're both straining in their pants, till their faces are wet with it and they're tasting nothing but each other. And then Ike curls a hand in Kyle's hair and tips his head back, and Kyle _moans_.

The sound is wanton. Disgusting. Kyle's bucking up his hips, is gasping like a _whore_ , and Ike's hand in his hair is sharp, almost painful, and he _wants_.

"Fuck," Ike breathes, grinds into him. They moan together. " _Fuck_ , I-"

Kyle reaches out, blindly, hooks his fingers in Ike's shirt. Wants.

"Please," he groans. " _Please_ , Ike."

Ike kisses him again, presses his hands to Kyle's thighs, and grinds again. They're panting.

"I want to fuck you," Ike says, and his voice is clear. "I've wanted to fuck you for _years_ , Kyle. Wanted to bend you ever and fuck you so bad, ruin you, make you _beg_ -"

" _Fu_ ck-" Kyle whines, tugs at Ike's clothes, desperate. "Ike, please, _please_. Fuck me, okay. _Please_."

Ike drags his hands up, skims them under Kyle's shirt and presses his fingers to the soft flesh of Kyle's gut.

"Are you-"

"I'm _sure,_ fuck-" Kyle kisses him, hard and wet and desperate, and then he pushes Ike back, jumps down and shimmies his pants off. Pulls his underwear down.

His cock springs free, red and dripping precum, and he can't help himself- he strokes it, drags his palm along it, and he moans, bucks into it, and _god_ , it feels so good. 

And then Ike's hand is there, is stroking him, and Kyle has to kiss him to not howl with pleasure, because that's _Ike's_ hand on him, finally, and Kyle's been thinking about this for _days_ , ever since he heard Ike moaning his name.

"Fuck," Ike says, bitten and hushed. "You're so fucking gorgeous, you know that?"

Kyle looks at him.

Shirt askew, belt unbuckled and cock straining in his jeans; lips red and shiny, eyes dark with lust. 

"Fuck me," is all Kyle can say. All he _wants_.

Ike groans. 

" _Fuck me,_ Ike," Kyle repeats, reaches down to tug at Ike's pants. "Please?"

Ike kisses him. Warm, wet, sloppy with lust, and together they pull Ike's cock free, hands as one.

For a second, a beat, they stand there. Naked, raw, and the moment to stop this has long since passed, but for a second, Kyle isn't sure if he regrets this. Regrets kissing his brother, regrets every second after.

But his dick is throbbing, his gut is aflame, and it's already much too late for regret.

"I have lube in the bedside table," he says, and goes to fetch it, because someone has to.

After getting a good glob of it on his finger, he passes it to Ike; stands there, almost hesitant, unsure.

He knows he has to prep, but-

Kyle looks at Ike- he's smearing lube on his dick, lip caught between his teeth and expression _open_ , flushed, and Kyle wants him, God. He wants Ike so much.

He bends over the table. Reaches back, and finds that puckered hole, presses his fingers against it, wincing.

It's cold. Cold, and kind of unpleasant, but he keeps the pressure up, working his fingers, and then it finger sinks in.

It's uncomfortable. _Weird._ But he wants Ike in him, _inside him_ , so he thrusts a bit, shallow and clumsy.

He screws his face. Meets his own thrusts, and the pleasure comes slow, gentle, a soft buzz compared to the fire Ike had been igniting.

But it comes.

He pushes another finger inside, makes a low sound in the back of his throat. It's _tight_ , he's tight, clamping down on his own fingers, and he's not sure what his breath is doing, tripping and hitching in his chest, but _fuck-_

He spreads himself open, and groans with it.

Hands touch his buttocks. Spreads them wide, and Kyle gasps, thrusts awkwardly, and the pleasure is a ringing, now.

"Let me help," Ike says, kisses the back of his neck, and before Kyle can try and remove his fingers, another slides in.

"Ah-"

The finger hooks, curls, thrusts in deep and good, and Kyle's still tight, but the pleasure is a roar in his head, is a havoc in his skin.

Ike fingerfucks him gently, slowly. Presses kissed to his neck, to the fuzz of his hair, and Kyle has to remove his fingers, has to cling to the table as Ike preps him.

He loses himself in the haze. Loses himself in the thrust and spread of Ike's fingers, in the gentle grind of his cock against the table. He moans, gasps and pants, and when the fingers slide out of him, he nearly twists around in anger.

Except then there's a slide of something wet and warm at his hole, something throbbing and _big_ , much bigger than a pair of fingers.

Ike slides in like he's meant to be there.

The sound is lewd, this slick noise of two bodies clicking together, and Kyle presses his face to the table and _moans_.

Ike clings to him. Doesn't move, just rests there, dick throbbing inside Kyle, a perfect fit, curved inside his body.

"Don't be too loud," Ike says, like it's just occurred to him, and then he _moves_.

Kyle has to bite down on his hand to muffle himself.

The scream is lodged in his throat, is torn apart in his mouth, and it's not pain, not really. It's _pleasure_ , at feeling Ike moving inside him, slow and careful. At these shallow thrusts, at Ike's hips meeting his backside. At the feel of Ike's cock inside him, filling him, taking him, and there's stars, shining in his eyes. Stars, twinkling so bright.

Ike speeds up, bit by bit. Thrusts quicker, faster, _deeper_. The first time he hits that spot, Kyle draws blood, a mangled moan slipping out, because the stars are exploding, fireworks and kaleidoscopes of pleasure, pure and undiluted, so _so_ good.

They fuck.

Ike thrusting into him, Kyle meeting him, and it's a rapid descend into madness, brother inside brother, and Kyle's leaking over the table, a puddle of precum and blood, and Ike's digging his hands in so tight it'll leave bruises, and Kyle cannot think of anything. Not regret, not morality. Not even the fact that it's his little brother, buried to the hilt inside him.

They come like a collapsing star. Together, earth-moving and explosive. Ike moans and groans, and bends down to bury his face in Kyle's back, and Kyle gasps without sound, arches back so far his head touches the back of Ike's.

The moment hangs.

There's cum across the table, leaking out between where Ike fits against Kyle. There's blood on the table, on Kyle's back, and they're both panting, aching for breath. 

Neither of them speaks, at first.

Eventually Ike straighten. He doesn't pull out, just stands up straight, and there's a crick on Kyle's back, this little spot of distant pain.

"Do you regret it?" Ike asks, voice _young_.

Kyle half turns.

Ike's not looking at him. His head is turned, his eyes shadowed, and there's a smear of blood on his lips.

"I should," Kyle says. Ike flinches.

It's hard, turning around. Ike's still inside him, flaccid and sticky, and the feel of his cock moving makes Kyle's skin tingle, but he has to.

He touches Ike's chin. Taps it, till Ike looks at him, eyes so fucking _hurt._

"I don't, though," Kyle says, smile on his face, and Ike's whole body hitches, breathes with what could, maybe, be a sob.

Ike curls a hand around his wrist. Smiles, this young, vulnerable thing, and kisses the pads of Kyle's fingers.

"Me neither."


End file.
